


Goodbye

by Paint Me a Symphony (youngerdrgrey)



Series: 1000 Theme Challenge [15]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-19
Updated: 2009-01-19
Packaged: 2017-12-18 07:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngerdrgrey/pseuds/Paint%20Me%20a%20Symphony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It occurs to him then that he's going to have to say goodbye. Two-shot. Angst. Missing scenes from Season Four Finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> (#831 of 1000 Theme Challenge, "Tell Him Goodbye")

Voices come through, breaking into the little isle of dreams. They are familiar, loud, and both reek of tiredness and despair. They are jumbled together for a moment. Then, they clear, and House can make out one voice from another.

"Are you going to wait for him to wake up?" he hears Cuddy ask. She sounds almost pleading. He hears a throat clear.

"I-I'm going home," Wilson's voice announces. House makes a small move to sit up now. Wilson's there. Wilson, his friend, his good friend.

"James," Cuddy starts. She does not finish her sentence.

House cracks open his eyes, peering ever so slightly at the two around him. They are both standing. Cuddy is closer to the bed than Wilson, who keeps looking at the door. Wilson's head is bowed sheepishly, but his stance betrays the emotion. It is rigid and unyielding. House strains his brain trying to figure what could have changed his friend so quickly. He can't come up with an answer.

"Lisa," Wilson begs, "I can't be here right now. I-I need to go."

Cuddy steps to him, taking his wrist in her hand. House watches them curiously. She has changed too.

"You can't go back there, James. It's too soon. Amber--"

Cuddy silences herself as Wilson winces. House's eyebrows furrow slightly. Amber…. Why does the name sound familiar? Was she a patient of his? Thinking of questions, what's going on? Why is he in a hospital bed? He should be in his office, tossing his tennis ball and ordering tests and scans. Wilson should be vibrant and happy, not pulling his wrist away from Cuddy as if she burned him.

"Is dead," Wilson growls out, both other adults react to his angry tone.

House tries to grasp the subject. This Amber person, whoever she is, is dead. Her death affected Wilson, and Cuddy, and probably him as well. It seems to have really gotten to Wilson. The deep-rooted pain in the man's voice is evident even to House's screwed up brain.

Wilson steps backwards, away from Cuddy. He looks to the bed, and House feigns being asleep again. By the time he starts watching them again, Wilson is by the door.

"Wilson," Cuddy calls. She has not moved in the time he stopped. Wilson looks over his shoulder at her.

"I know this is going to be tough on you, but don't distance yourself from us, alright. Especially not House. He's going to need you, need all of us. I want to be able to be there for you and him," Cuddy continues.

"Focus on him, Lisa. You always have anyway," Wilson notes.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asks.

"Nothing. I'm going to need some time, away from everything. I don't know how long I'll take," he says.

She interrupts him, saying, "I can give you two months. After that, you'll have to either return, or give up your practice here."

House's gaze narrows. Wilson leaving is almost as absurd sounding as the notion that whoever this is could do this much damage. Was Amber Wilson's girlfriend? Maybe his wife. No, his last wife was Julie.

House studies Wilson's face, seeing the same tension that always came to him at any mention of his divorces. He silently wonders just how long he has been in the hospital bed. He tentatively sticks his tongue out, reaching as far down as he can. It tickles him, but not enough for him to have been out that long. He sighs. Neither notice for they have started talking again.

"I-If I did that, left my practice, could you find a good replacement?" Wilson probes.

"Possibly. I'd hate to do it, but if you were to leave, I would need to," Cuddy shares.

"Dr. Gime," Wilson mumbles, "He's in California right now. He'd do a good job."

"Wilson, you aren't actually," Cuddy backtracks, she catches sight of the even tighter jaw and adds that to her collection of dropped sentences, "At least wait until he wakes up. Don't leave without telling him goodbye."

House can feel their eyes on him again. His are scrunched together with more effort than his rouse requires. He can't believe what he's hearing. Of all the people to leave when the going gets tough, of all the idiots and morons he surrounds himself with, never has be expected Wilson to fall into this category of Camerons and Foremans. They all left for one reason or another. Never mind that they came back, never mind that the reason always had to do with him; they left in the first place because something was out of balance. House really needs to know what is out of balance now. What did he do? What can he do?

He makes a decision. He moves his body slightly, then once more in a bigger motion. He creates a nice show of waking up. His gaze roams the room until they come to the door frame. Standing there, even more adamant than before, is Wilson. The man's face tells House the answer to those last questions. Maybe not as well as the story he will have someone brief him on later, but enough to let House know that whoever this Amber is, she's dead because of him.

House tries to smile for Wilson, an effort to show how much he doesn't want whatever this is to get between them. It fails just as he is sure those hopes will. Their eyes meet. House looks down. When he looks up again, Wilson is gone.

He turns his head to the side, away from Cuddy's concerned gaze. Dancing behind his eyelids is the look he just got from his only friend. He never wants to see that much pain in Wilson's eyes again. Obviously, the oncologist is not okay. And, their relationship probably will never be what it was before. That small process of thought is enough to have something foreign and long forgotten bubbling up; sadness, grief, heartache. House clenches every muscle in his body, but that does nothing to stop the small drops from slipping through and onto the thin material of the hospital's pillow sheets. His throat feels scratchy, and, somewhere in there, he feels the words that seem to speak volumes even without ever being said.

Goodbye.


End file.
